


Confidence

by laEsmeralda



Series: Walking the Walk [4]
Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laEsmeralda/pseuds/laEsmeralda





	Confidence

_Wistful. _That was the word Peter thought best described his mood as he hunted for a parking space. Framing his mental state, finding a word for it (and consciously reframing it if necessary), had become a ritual when driving home alone.__

It had taken a few days, but Neal had actually followed his advice. He had to admit, in fairness, that Neal frequently did as he suggested, just not reliably. And sometimes (in order to compensate it seemed), the man behaved in absolute opposition to sensibility. But this felt like a breakthrough.

Today, as Neal’s agent-in-charge, Peter had been offered access to the notes from Neal’s first session with Dr. Chandra. “Seal them,” he had declared from behind his desk to the doc, perhaps a bit too firmly. 

“CI’s aren’t entitled to standard confidentiality.”

Peter sat up straighter. This was news. “Did you tell him that?”

“Really, Agent Burke?” Dr. Chandra had sounded insulted. “I explained that the notes would be eyes-only for you but that if you come under investigation for any reason, my files could be accessed by others as well.”

Peter was more than mildly surprised that Neal had gone ahead under those terms. “I don’t want to see notes. I don’t want to hear about the sessions. The man’s entitled to his privacy somewhere along the line and I draw the line here.”

Dr. Chandra had smiled at him, warmly and perhaps a bit sadly. “I can help him, and quickly,” she said. “I already know that. He’s resilient.”

“There might be more for him to clear than Kate’s death,” Peter replied after a careful pause to consider his words. It really wasn’t his place to give her anything of Neal’s past.

“When isn’t there? Speaking of, you seem to be doing just fine.”

He had liked Dr. Chandra. Right after he had stopped hating her. And stonewalling. So he smiled at her. “Thanks in no small part to your unconventional techniques.”

“You’ve thanked me enough, Agent. You know that I’ll guide the process without tapping secrets that need keeping. Mr. Caffrey is safe with me, regardless of who might gain access to my records.” She patted Peter’s arm and walked out.

So, that aspect of Neal’s struggle was in good hands and he could stop worrying. There were so many things Neal hadn’t shared with him, but that would be a problem for another day. Or night.

His team had gone on to open and wrap a case in just a few hours. The file Peter had chosen had passed around the table. The perp was compositing photos and aging them to bolster false claims of missing children found and birth parents identified, collecting fees to investigate, only to vanish before the dead-end, or worse yet, dead-wrong outcome. He or she was strictly small time in terms of dollars, but talented and cruel enough for the case to have moved up the chain. Or, Peter thought, somewhat cynically, bilked the wrong friend-of-a-friend.

Before the meeting, Jones had narrowed down the zone of operation, mapped the pattern of marks (victims, he reminded himself). While they talked through the facts, Diana reorganized the fakes and authentic photos according to Jones’ map before passing the file down the line to Neal. She caught Peter’s eye and nodded so that he could watch Neal’s face as he flipped through both sets of photos. 

After a few minutes, Neal passed the folder on without comment, slipped out to his desk, and came back with an address. “This is the guy who sold the paper used for all but one mark,” he said. “Try not to hurt him. He supplies mostly legitimate artists. Tell him the scam and he’ll give you the culprit without hesitation.” He didn’t ask to ride along, and Peter didn’t push. He told Neal to go home but keep the phone close. Ninety minutes later, they had made the arrest. The team had been sharp, no guns necessary. Peter phoned Neal. 

“You were right.”

“Aren’t I always?” Neal replied archly.

They both chuckled. Peter looked around the makeshift shop. The team bustled, nobody was listening.

“Don’t,” Neal warned.

“How do you know—“

“Don’t,” he repeated, more warmly. “I know because I want to. Just say goodnight and go home. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow, say, eight-ish.”

Musing on the exchange, Peter was starting his third circle of the block when he remembered that the Petersons were in the Hamptons. They lived around the corner and had a rare, if scarily narrow, parking space behind their gate. He whistled as he plugged in the code. There were a few personal perks to working for the FBI, for example, that your rich neighbors liked you to poke around when they were gone.

Elizabeth was just coming down the stairs when he walked through the door. Even in yoga pants and a t-shirt, she made his breath catch. He dumped his briefcase and caught her as she jumped the last two stairs at him. All thoughts of poring over cases during dinner vanished. He kissed her like he meant to do every day after hours apart, the way he would if their many responsibilities didn’t intrude. 

He stroked her neck through the kiss and finally let his hands graze down her back to slide under her waistband. Having secured a generous grasp on her ass, he shifted the kiss to more of an inquiry. Her enthusiastic response sealed the deal and he practically carried her back up the stairs.

Peter always marveled at how plush Elizabeth felt against him in contrast with her formidable energy. He relished the secret softness. “Hardbodies are vastly overrated,” he had told her once when she unhappily regarded her midsection in the mirror and mumbled about maybe taking up pilates instead of yoga. 

The suppleness that welcomed and surrounded him, that shuddered against his mouth, magically transformed into Amazonian strength when she levered astride him. He gave over to the swirl of her hips, the way her body consumed him, the brush and press of her breasts against him, until his atoms scattered across the universe.

Later, downstairs, they elbowed each other through the process of assembling no-brainer food, soup and salad and cheese, filling each other in on the day. Peter praised his team while El had reason to grumble about hers, so he listened with extra care.

Because they ate at the corner of the table so their bodies could keep touching, it wasn’t until Peter was downing his second bowl of soup that he noticed the very specific bouquet.

“Those are… not from me,” he said, surprised, mouth half-full.

Elizabeth smiled, mischievously. She didn’t stop cramming salad into her mouth.

Peter reached for the card, hesitated, read it when she didn’t intervene. He put down his spoon. “Holy shit.”

“Ye-ah.” She gave it two syllables.

“Um. You know… I didn’t know. Neal didn’t share it with me.”

“I gathered. I’m pretty sure he knew I would.”

Emotions were stirring to which he couldn’t put a name. Neal’s eloquence once again moved him. The effort he put into learning about someone in depth was both admirable and suspect, depending upon motive. But then, the protectiveness Neal expressed toward Peter was a surprise, more so than the tenderness shown toward Elizabeth. “What have I gotten myself into…”

Elizabeth laughed. “Are you complaining? Because if you are, so help me—“

Peter held up a hand in surrender. 

“I’m the one who should be worried that your wavelengths are merging,” she teased. 

Peter regarded her with a sober face. “I didn’t remember what you said and decide to act on it. I don’t pay attention like he does,” he said, feeling a little sheepish, perhaps even upstaged. 

El sighed and shook her head at him. “No. You’re motivated by real love, not a need to please me, to make me like you. Tonight was spontaneous and so much hotter than if you’d engineered it.” She reached out and touched a petal. “This is flattering and endearing.” She scrunched her nose. “He tries so _hard_ , it’s like having a puppy again.”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter grumbled, picking up his spoon again. “A chiseled, bright-eyed, stylish, good-smelling, talented, earnest, handsome, artistic _puppy_ fetching you your favorite flowers with poetic notes while I’m at work. Because he hangs on your every word from weeks ago.” Peter mostly had to act the disgruntled part, seeing as he had to think about Neal in particular to describe him, and that led to pleasant feelings.

“Sending.”

“What?”

“Sending me my favorite flowers. He had them delivered. By a very cute girl who didn’t want a tip.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m correcting the record. But feel free to continue with your description. Lots of accurate adjectives there, but you forgot ‘shockingly smart,” and ‘devious.’” She looked altogether too delighted, and then leaned in, as if anyone else in the world could hear them with the house fresh from a bug-sweep. “Saying all that out loud, did you make yourself hard?”

Not quite, but her voice got him all the way there. 

She reached over, slowly, giving him time to stop her, and confirmed it with a soft squeeze. 

He let out a slow breath. “You know I want you in on all this—whatever the hell it is I’m doing. But is it selfish that I’m not sure that I want Neal actually having sex with you? Which this note implies—rather plainly—that he has thought about.” Part of Peter, not just the hard part, was fully on board with the concept. The rest of him was fairly confident it would be a bad idea, but was wavering, not wanting to be the limiting factor.

Elizabeth huffed. “You’re presuming way too much. Thinking that I want that? Or thinking that he would dare, given how much he wants to make you happy, how much he fears screwing it all up?”

Peter felt incredulity set in. “How could you not want that?”

Elizabeth started to laugh, and then checked herself when she saw he was serious. “To quote you, ‘Explain.’”

“Okay.” He struggled for the right words, started and stopped. He could feel his face heat and he never blushed. “Let’s just put it this way. He’s so irresistible that _I_ want him.” That did make her laugh. “Really, you’re not making this very easy,” he complained.

“No, I’m not,” she grinned. “Go on.”

“He’s everything I’m not, which isn’t self-deprecating, it’s just true. Women, _especially_ the monogamous ones, fantasize about men different than the ones they’re with.”

“Oh, really. You read that in _GQ_ or something.”

Peter shrugged. “You’ve seen Neal in all his flawless glory.” Elizabeth had not removed her hand, and it was driving him crazy. Thinking of Neal naked was something he worked very hard to confine to narrow and safe moments. 

“Ah, the male version of ‘Your basic nightmare,’ she said, quoting one of their favorite films. “There are flaws having nothing to do with the physical and I’m aware of many. But I won’t lie, I do fantasize about him.”

The parts of him at odds with each other suddenly ran in different directions inside his chest and belly. He waited, afraid to say anything. Her eyes were wide and dark blue, so deep, so mesmerizing. He knew how aroused she was. The fact of the matter was, he would try—no do—almost anything he could think of to please her. And she might not ask. He couldn’t bear to think she would ever have _settled_ to be with him or make him happy.

“Okay, enough of that kind of torture,” El said. “To be necessarily specific, I daydream about him kissing you, stroking your chest, sucking you off. I imagine you begging him to take you on your desk at work, even though I know that’s never going to happen. I see him hanging onto the sheets of our bed for dear life while you fuck him, so afraid to hurt him and yet compelled to get as deep inside him as you can.” 

Peter almost groaned at the strength of pleasure that stabbed through him. 

“I even fantasize about your conversations, your voices.” She paused and watched his face. “When I think about Neal, I think about your effect on each other. What either of you really wants out in the real world doesn’t much enter into the scenarios. I think I know what you like, but I don’t have to stick to it. So tell me, aside from the thrill of novelty, has he turned out to be a good lover?” Her fingers rolled against him. “For what you need?”

He couldn’t answer her right away, he was trying not to come in his sweats. “Yes,” he finally husked. 

“Be clear with yourself about that,” she said, mercifully sitting back in her chair and letting him cool a little. “Because from where I sit, he sent me _those_ to define a connection, to communicate that I’m important to him, and to say that you’re the treasure he can’t lose. It demonstrates respect. He’s hinting that he’s attracted to me, which he’s probably saying so I won’t feel slighted. He wants to strengthen our teamwork to support you. He doesn’t want me to worry about your safety. He’s thankful that I’m sharing.” She smiled. “The upshot is that Neal rolled over and showed me his fuzzy tummy to do with as I will. Puppy.”

The extent of her insight and her raw power was a little intimidating. He had to challenge it. “We’re talking about the guy who made you wet with just a few ballroom moves.” 

“Oh, no fair bringing that up.” She folded her arms.

“It’s a fact in stark contradiction to your analogy.”

She bit her lip. “So… Neal is also a wild animal. Like a jungle cat that lures you in and awes you with its beauty and then eats you for dinner without a moment’s regret and goes to lie in the sun. People are complicated.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Yes, Peter, the note turned me on, I admit it. But I’m not on the menu, you are.”

His mouth was suddenly dry. Peter drained his water glass. “All of that, what you just described, those are his survival skills. When we’re together, he lets me behind those roles. Even when he’s playing, like at the beginning of that movie we made for you, it isn’t for stakes, he gives. He pays attention to what gets me, what doesn’t, and he pushes my boundaries just a little. But he doesn’t vie for control like he does at work, he seems to want to be laid bare. I didn’t mean that as a joke, I’m serious.” 

“Where did you park?” she suddenly asked, looking at the clock.

The abrupt change of topic threw him. “Petersons.”

“Good.” She got up and hurried into her office. “I have an idea. Grab your briefcase and come in here. Stay away from the windows, turn off the light, and be quiet.” He collected his things and followed her in, receiving a clipped series of instructions. “Use my laptop and headphones. When you hear the front door, you’d better be tuned in to the Satch cam. Make sure you’re on the right wifi.” She left and shut the door. He could hear her clearing away dishes.

He was completely baffled. “What the hell are you up to?” he called.

She stuck her head back in. “Shh. You’re now on a stakeout, Agent Burke, just follow my lead. No questions. All will be answered. Whatever happens, stay put until I signal you.”

He did as she asked, amused, apprehensive, confused. He turned off the light and settled into her big chair. The laptop framed a nanny cam view of their dining room, from beyond the table looking toward the sitting area. They had used the camera to intervene in sneaky dog behaviors, and then most recently, to protect against home intrusion. Thanks to an auction from a RICOH seizure, they even had hi def. 

El appeared and waved at him with a giggle before going to the mirror and smoothing down her hair. The doorbell rang and she disappeared around the corner.  
*******

 

The front door was just out of microphone range, but Peter could hear the muffled sound of Elizabeth’s greeting, and the low tones of Neal’s voice. One question closed, another surfaced. More curiosity and apprehension settled low in his belly. They came into view as she led Neal toward the table.

“Thanks for coming. I know it was short notice. And mysterious.” She seemed nervous.

Neal had his hands in his pockets, unusually casual in jeans and a t-shirt. He looked worried, taking in her somewhat tumbled appearance. “Is everything okay? I… it just isn’t like you to ask me to catch a cab over.”

“I didn’t mean to alarm you. I just needed to see you. Alone.” Her head turned toward the flowers. “These… and what you wrote, they’re so wonderful. Thank you. But it raised some questions that need answering.”

“Oh.” His brows drew together. “Over the top, huh? Darn. I was trying—” 

Suddenly, El was wrapped around him, drawing him down to her mouth, kissing him hungrily, arching against his body. 

Peter froze, his cock jumping to life again at the same time that his heart seemed to jolt to a stop. 

Neal’s hands wavered, and then his arms came around Elizabeth, gently holding her as she clung to him. He returned the kiss, no-holds-barred for a few breaths.

Peter’s groin pounded with blood. He felt contradictory anger rising, knew it to be nothing else, realized that truly he didn’t want _this_. 

With a painful groan, Neal carefully backed his body away from Elizabeth. He left his hands on her waist, head bowed. Her arms slid from around his neck, back to her sides. “You could feel, I’m sure, the effect you have,” he said in a shaky voice. “But it just isn’t right. I can’t do this.”

“I know,” she replied, reaching up to stroke his hair. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. Or Peter. And I need to be with him.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her, softly, longingly, and then drew her into a hug, rocking with her. “It would just be… too weird.”

After a minute, El sighed and pulled away, her face beaming. “Well, darling Neal, you’ve answered my questions.” She gave the signal. “Okay, you aren’t allowed to be angry with Peter. This is all my doing and he had no idea what was happening.” 

Peter stripped off the headphones and slowly emerged from the office, heart thudding against his ribs. 

Neal’s eyes glittered, and Peter could see _pissed_ before Neal’s guard went up. In his own head, it sounded like the cocking of a gun. Peter hoped, desperately, that El’s experiment hadn’t caused a setback.

“A test,” Neal said, nodding. “A sting?” He looked at Elizabeth and couldn’t conceal the hurt. 

“Not on you, silly,” she said to him, sternly. “On Peter.” 

Peter sensed Neal’s head turn to Elizabeth in surprise as his own did. She was flushed, and to Peter’s trained eye, it wasn’t only arousal, there was defensiveness there too. 

She turned toward him. “It occurred to me while we were talking that you have pangs of doubt and you also keep _pushing._ Yourself. Us. Maybe you don’t even know it. You want each of us, you toy with the idea of having us both at the same time. And you’re intrigued and scared by the thought that we might be together without you. You can’t seem to leave it alone.”

Neal’s eyes flicked to Peter’s face and down, and Peter suddenly became aware of the wet spot that must be showing on his sweats along with his still-half-hard state. The fact that Neal’s eyes lingered, his expression still masked, didn’t help. 

El continued. “The three of us have to try to be aware of what we mean to make real and what should stay in our heads. Yes, _this_ ,” she gestured between herself and Neal, “would be smoking hot, which should come as a surprise to no one. But it should also stay in your head.”

“Our heads,” Neal corrected her, a bit of amusement displacing the careful blankness. He winked at her and then focused on Peter, eyes wide and innocent. “Flowers cause a problem? I didn’t mean them to.”

“Note,” Peter said. “Guess what I did when I got home from work today, having no idea what you’d sent?”

Neal blinked at him, blankly, and then a wicked smile emerged. “Holy shit.”

Peter chuckled ruefully. “That’s what I said when I saw the card about 45 minutes ago.”

“See, merging wavelengths,” Elizabeth chimed in. They both shushed her. 

“The point is,” Peter began, “this circle is tightening. I was talking with Elizabeth about the implications of your words, and I told her I don’t know if I want you… with her.”

A corner of Neal’s mouth twitched. “What’s trying to get out of your pants says otherwise.” 

Peter felt himself responding anew to Neal’s voice. He kept his arms folded over his chest and tried not to contemplate how he must look. “I don’t think with it.”

Neal mock sighed. “I’ve noticed. But how did we get here? I haven’t given you reason to think I’d pursue Elizabeth, let alone behind your back. In fact, I specifically told you I don’t want any of us to go there. Certainly not at this point in our relationship. And yet you doubt.” 

“The confidence man always tells you what you want to hear.” Peter immediately regretted the words.

“Ah, touché.” As lightly as he said it, Neal’s voice still conveyed hurt. “But this. Is not. A game.” Each phrase came with a step closer. “I’ve stolen a lot of things in my life. You know I want this, what you have here in your happy home, but I couldn’t steal it if I tried. Just _trying_ would ruin the dream for me. And if you don’t trust me, trust her.” Neal reached behind him for Elizabeth’s hand even as his other hand cupped against Peter. 

Almost blinded for a moment with the sensation layering on top of the waves of brink-and-back he’d weathered over the last hour, Peter wobbled on his feet. Elizabeth let go Neal’s hand and stepped shoulder to shoulder with Peter, steadying him, facing Neal. Neal’s attention to Peter’s face didn’t waver. “Elizabeth, I’m curious… you called me an hour ago. Peter hadn’t seen the flowers yet. You must have had something else in mind besides a game of truth or consequences.”

“Honestly, I wanted you two to have some off-the-clock time, but I didn’t want to be on my own this evening either. I was torn.” She nudged Peter. “I wanted to surprise you. So I called while I was in the shower. I had to make it quick.” Then back to Neal, “When he read the card, I had to improvise.”

“Let me know if you get tired of your day job,” Neal quipped. 

Having Neal touching him in El’s presence was seriously compromising Peter’s control. The intervening slippery cloth made matters worse.

Neal leaned close. “ _You_ didn’t shower. I can smell her all over your face.” Then his mouth was on Peter’s, tongue sliding in, teeth sharp and careless, and his grip tightened. 

Peter came, clutching the table, straining against Neal’s hand, strangling on the desperate sounds that he just couldn’t give full voice. 

As he caught his breath, the sound of Elizabeth’s short, sharp breaths reached him. He opened his eyes. Neal’s gaze, hot and veiled, was locked on hers. “Better live?” he asked her. 

She nodded, shivered. 

He turned those eyes on Peter. One or two blinks later, they slid back to Elizabeth and held, as though under a spell, until Neal drew a slow breath. “I’m going to rummage around Elizabeth’s office for some good wine.” With that, he left the room. 

Peter rounded on Elizabeth, slid a hand into her pants and locked his mouth on her neck. She was pulsing even as he felt his way and within a few rhythmic strokes of his fingers, convulsed around him, trying to be quiet and mostly failing. He held her until the trembling eased, kissed her forehead, and went to change. 

When he came back, they were both standing by the fireplace. Neal handed Elizabeth a glass. “It didn’t have time to breathe, of course, but it’ll serve.” Peter watched him study her like he would any work of art. “You’re especially gorgeous after orgasm,” Neal observed, taking a sip. 

Elizabeth almost choked on her wine. 

“I don’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, sincerely. “I’m still trying to find the edges of the rules.” He seemed to be avoiding looking at Peter.

“It’s difficult,” Peter said. Neal was surrounded by a miasma of sexual tension so strong it seemed almost visible to Peter. By surprising Neal, triggering his defenses, they had brought on predator mode. Peter surmised that giving them each shattering experiences while withholding himself was an instinctive means to reclaim control. Under the cool, he was vibrating with almost desperate hunger. Neal wasn’t the only one who could read.

Elizabeth smiled, though her smile was a little shaky. “If we’re going to be so open, which I do prefer, I need to buck up. Neal, thank you for the compliment. I’m sorry for coming at you like I did. I thought it was necessary. The risk that I might enjoy it, immensely, was a chance I had to take,” she joked. She reached out and lightly stroked Neal’s arm, an intended reassurance. 

He controlled a flinch but not fast enough for Peter to miss it. Neal swirled his wine, watching it lick the edges of the glass. “I’m glad you did it. I certainly wouldn’t have tried to find out what that would be like with you. Now I know.” It was difficult to hear whether the words were meant as conciliation or chastisement, but they were laced with desire. “And I understand you had to know what Peter really wants. Or doesn’t. Now we’re all sure of that too.”

Elizabeth fell silent. She looked at Peter, her eyes pleading for assistance. He moved into the physical zone of their conversation, breaking the tension a little. “Neal, if I touch you right now, are you going to bite me?” he asked, softly.

Neal smiled, wanly, finally meeting Peter’s eyes, his own full of uncertainty. “Only if you want me to,” he replied. 

Peter removed the glass to the mantle and drew Neal into his arms. He buried his nose in Neal’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really fucking this up.” At that, the rigidity went out of Neal and he melted against Peter.

“It’s been an interesting day, starting with Dr. Chandra,” Neal, said, slightly muffled by Peter’s shoulder.

“She stopped by. I told her I don’t want to know. That’s your time. Nobody’s business, least of all mine. She doesn’t record and she won’t keep anything in writing you don’t want her to. But you went ahead, not knowing that.”

“I told you I trust you,” Neal replied.

“God help me,” Peter joked. “I hope I’m worthy.” He still perceived Neal’s tension, even as Neal tried to bury it deeper and deeper. And he sensed Elizabeth moving away.

“Don’t go,” Neal said to her, lifting free of Peter’s shirt. “Please. Unless this bothers you.”

There came a little bark of a rueful laugh. “Bothers me? I’m riveted. But I feel like an intruder. I already feel like a betrayer of puppies,” there were tears hidden in her voice.

Neal left Peter to go and take her by the shoulders. “You couldn’t let me in on it, or Peter wouldn’t trust the outcome. You never have to apologize to me for looking for the truth. I once told you not to mistake me for an honest man.” And then he caught up with something incongruous. “Puppies?” 

His quizzical look made her laugh through the sparkle of tears in her eyes. She brushed at them. “You’re so earnest, always glancing at him to gauge his reaction. Trying so hard to please us both. When you’re like that, it’s like when Satch was new.” She rubbed her cheek against his hand. “I put the nanny cam on him too.” 

His lashes swept lower. “Ah, a strict mistress,” he said, low and suddenly naughty. “All for our own good.” He looked sidelong at Peter. “I strongly suggest that you intervene here or I can’t be responsible for my behavior.”

“My love,” Peter said to Elizabeth. “Please go have a seat on the couch.”

She slid out from under Neal’s hands and retreated as instructed. 

Peter encircled Neal from behind, pulling him back against his chest. “No more presumptions from me tonight. Your call, Neal.” Neal’s heart raced under Peter’s palms. From his own deeply satisfied state, Peter observed how delicious Neal smelled. Underneath the civility of the most sparing cologne, the most neutral soap, were the body oils and hormones and precome that belonged only to Neal, as recognizable to him now as Elizabeth’s scent. He wanted to touch him only with the most profound love and respect.

It seemed like a whole minute before Neal moved, in the trance of some inner struggle. He didn’t speak, but dragged one of Peter’s hands down his body until Peter could feel the marble hard ridge in his jeans. Then, Neal hooked his own t-shirt and stripped out of it, detaching from Peter just enough to get it off and let it fall at his feet. He dropped his head back on Peter’s shoulder, turning into the kiss they both started at the same time. Agonizingly slowly, Peter ran his hand down, and up, and down the rough fabric. His other hand brushed across Neal’s chest, catching nipples in the caress, and then down to dip in his navel, and down to wrestle with the button and zipper. 

Neal’s hands came up behind Peter’s head, angling him more strongly into the kiss. 

Peter got the jeans open and shoved them down to Neal’s thighs so his bare ass could rest along Peter’s soft but still discernable cock. He smoothed a hand up Neal’s neck, shifting his head back and out of the way so that Peter could look down his body. He grasped him with the other hand and marveled at the piercing joy that went through him at the sight, feeling it as a clear urge to have Neal inside him. He tucked that thought away for another time. Neal’s breath was coming harder and faster and noisier. Peter glanced at El, knees tucked up, arms wrapped around, attention shifting between Neal’s face and Peter’s busy hand. 

His lips grazed Neal’s neck. 

“Peter…” The situation was clearly desperate.

“Wait,” Peter murmured, “there’s something I have to tell you. Something I want you to really hear.”

Breath laboring, Neal held. 

Peter only made him wait a few more seconds to be sure he had his absolute attention. “I love you.” 

A shocked cry accompanied the first surge. Each burst brought a new sound, shifting from agonized to relieved, until Neal’s almost-full-weight rested back against Peter. Peter ran a hand over the semen, spreading it, reveling in the rising scent of satisfaction. A few moments later, El knelt in front of Neal and started reverently drying his body with a towel. Peter hadn’t realized she had moved. One of Neal’s hands came to rest on her head. When she was finished, Neal’s underwear and jeans restored, she stood and handed Neal his shirt. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She smiled at them both and left the room.

Neal slowly shifted to standing on his own, pulled on the shirt and retrieved his wineglass. He turned to Peter. 

“You’re especially gorgeous after orgasm,” Peter said, repeating, and like Neal, not making a joke. Peter could see that he accepted it as intended. 

Neal said mildly, “You surprised me.”

Peter didn’t try to deflect or pretend he didn’t know what Neal meant. “It seems so obvious, it didn’t occur to me it needed saying.” 

“Hearing it… is different than hoping.”

Closing the few steps it took, Peter started kissing Neal on every bit of bare skin he could reach, little smooching kisses that soon had Neal laughing and shoving him away. “Where’s Elizabeth?” 

“Mm.” Peter had a sneaking suspicion that her absence might involve a vibrator. He’d recently walked in on her leaning against the dresser in her closet to keep from falling down. Full of surprises. He busied himself refilling Neal’s wine. “Probably just cleaning up. Let’s pick out a movie. You eat yet?”

“I’m fine. Yes. Peter…” Neal fumbled with his glass. 

Suddenly, Peter knew, and he also knew that to say it would undermine Neal’s delicate confidence. “Don’t,” Peter warned.

“How do you know—“

“Don’t,” he repeated, with a smile that he hoped would convey all he meant it to. “There’s plenty of time. So, how about _North By Northwest_?”  
*******


End file.
